I can remember it exactly, the first time that I ever saw Kurt. I remember Dalton being rampant with a sense of anticipation because The Warblers were throwing an impromptu performance in the senior common room. The whole building was filled with so much laughter and so much enthusiasm that when the news spread around I just stood still for a moment, in the middle of the crowd, hoping to process everything and create an extraordinary memory. It was one of those truly beautiful moments in my life and I wanted to file it all away for a rainy day, that unforgettable feeling of being so damn alive. I, Blaine Anderson, the eternal underdog, and all of my friends in The Warblers were the reason the whole school was so keyed up. Our performance mattered to our peers just as much as the musicality of it all mattered to me- and it was my everything.

On that particular day I remember I was running a little late, due to a series of unrelated unfortunate incidents, and I’d just descended the spiralling stairs in a hurry. I was about to take my usual shortcut, to beat the amassing crowds, when Kurt’s voice cut clean through the air and hit me. ‘Excuse me?’ he had said politely and I had turned right around to look at him then because I’d never heard his voice before. I guessed that he was a new kid, probably hopelessly lost and in need of a little help, he probably needed to know how to get to the common room or something and I could help him with that. After everything that strangers had done for me I saw it as an opportunity to return the favour, maybe I could brighten up the new kid’s first day.

When I turned around to look at him, the first thing I saw was the faded sadness that lingered around the corner of his eyes and the hopeful smile that hovered on his lips. It all seemed so familiar to me, so personal, and maybe that’s why I grabbed his hand within seconds of knowing him and led him quickly via my shortcut to the common room that he desired to be in. Perhaps I always wanted to be Kurt‘s friend, right from the start, maybe something inside me just knew, because I went into that common room and every single word I sang, I sang them to him. The beautiful outsider with hidden sadness in his eyes and no objections to holding a stranger’s hand.

I look down at my fingers now and they’re linked comfortably with Kurt’s and I can’t stop the faintest of smiles that forms progressively on my lips. We’ve had this from the very start and there’s something beautiful about that, I think, there’s something so pure and unspoiled about it all.

We’re sitting on a sofa in the living room of Kurt’s home and Carole and Burt are perched on the coffee table that stands less than a foot in front of us. It didn’t take long for us to end up in here, Carole practically ushered us inside and closed the door for privacy as soon as Kurt had mentioned needing to talk to them. There was no private conversation between the parents and there was not a single second of hesitation-it all just happened instantly. Instinctively.

It’s extraordinarily quiet in here, it’s very intimate and secure and everything feels incredibly heightened- the emotions, the meanings, the touches. I can hear everyone breathing, the steady ballooning and collapsing of lungs, and that lets me know that I‘m surrounded by people; that I‘m not alone. I can feel the bullet-proof barrier that Kurt put up around us both as soon as we sat down; I can see the worried faces of two adults, who truly deserve to be parents, staring right at me.

“Kurt,” Burt begins, getting the inevitable conversation started, as he looks intently between me and his son, “What’s going on here, buddy?”

I shift a little.

“There’s quite a lot to explain.” Kurt replies evenly, in a somewhat forewarning tone, and I can’t help but be thankful, though I know that I can’t let him be my voice. Not on this.

“We’re not going anywhere, honey.” Carole interjects softly and out of all of us she’s the one who looks the most confused. Though, her confusion doesn’t stop her from offering me motherly glances, laced thickly with concern and love, every couple of seconds. I can tell that she wants to hold my hand, or hug me, or do something else that a mother would naturally want to do upon seeing two wide eyed teenage boys but I know she isn’t sure if it’s the right thing to do; if it’s right to just reach out give comfort to a boy who isn‘t your own.

I shift then and I just do something, I reach out and I offer her my free hand. Carole looks at me in complete shock before she takes my hand with an emotional smile, kisses my knuckles once and then settles our hands on her thigh. She so soft, she’s so warm.

“Blaine?” Burt asks and I turn my head to look at him then. He looks so concerned in that moment and I still can‘t quite wrap my head around a grown man looking at me that way.

“I’ve- I’ve been having a hard time at home.” I say quietly and Kurt looks at me once before he squeezes my hand. My eyes flutter shut.

“I-” I start again searching for the right words, the best way to explain everything, “I’ve been having a very hard time, actually, and tonight I just- I couldn‘t do that.”

Nobody makes a sound for what seems like the longest time and I can tell they’re all thinking about what I just said and how I phrased it. I wonder if I should have said it differently but it’s too late now, I glance at Kurt and he looks both beautiful and upset. His eyes are rimmed with a natural red and even though he looks so troubled I can’t help but think how similar the colour is to the natural blush of his cheeks.

“What does that mean, kid?” Burt asks eventually, like he drew the short straw and who knows, maybe he did because it’s not like they’d want to have this conversation with me. I’m sure they’re both still trying to process the bruises and marks that are continually peeping past the lapels of Kurt’s blazer. I’m sure it’s incredibly hard for Burt to see me like this because of what it does to his son. I’m sure this is very hard for Carole too, assuming she knows about Puck.

I need to focus.

“He-” I try again but I’m stopped before I can even form words.

“Your dad?” Burt asks, as if he’s trying to clarify a few points because he doesn’t want to make the wrong assumptions but the way it sounds is the way it is. He’s not misunderstanding me, I’m sure he wishes he was though because the images that must be running through his head right now are probably awful… and the truth.

“Yeah.” I confirm in a whisper and I shift uncomfortably, I don’t like Burt calling him my ‘dad’ because he hasn’t been a dad to me- he’s just the man who happens to be my biological father but Burt doesn’t know that. That’s not his fault.

They’re all still just gazing at me in shock and I don’t quite know how to continue, how much to share, how much to keep for myself because I do need to keep some of it private, for me. I draw my bottom lip between my teeth and chance a look at Kurt- who proceeds to move impossibly closer to me. Our thighs are touching now and his body heat alone sends me so much comfort, his scent is intoxicating.

We’ve never sat this close together before, Kurt and I, and I instinctively look over to Burt to see if he’s objecting to this but he still looks nothing but worried. Burt doesn’t seem to mind that his son is so inappropriately close to me, he doesn’t blink an eye at our hands or our thighs or his son leaning into me and being so upset for me. I wish my father had held an ounce of Burt’s understanding in his heart because maybe then everything would have turned out differently. I shake my head. I can’t think like that, I need to focus. I need to explain what’s going on to these kind, considerate people who surround me.

“I-I just- I ” I start but once again I fail to finish, I’m frustrating myself now because I can use words, I know I can.

“Take your time, sweetie.” Carole says softly, no doubt sensing my irritation, as she smiles reassuringly at me. I take a deep breath.

“He- I freaked out because it was.. it was supposed to be our secret and- and I just- I didn’t know who that man was.” I look at the floor then as shame washes over me and unlike the kitchen there are no tiles for me to count here.

“Wait. There was someone other than your father there?” Kurt asks quickly and I can’t look up at him, I can’t, so I just nod.

“Oh, Blaine.” Kurt gasps and I look at him then, I have to, I look at his wide eyes and I can see that he understands, he understands why that felt so wrong to me; how betrayed I felt. He can see how that hurt me more than every single contusion he’d ever given me.

“They made me get on- on-” I stop again as the memory hits me and I close my eyes tightly. I feel like I can smell him, I feel like he could be here, I feel like he’s listening. I’m suddenly terrified again and a deep tremor runs through me.

“Hey, it’s okay, kid, no one can hurt you now.” Burt reassures and I try to focus on reality, on the now.

I open my eyes slowly and look at Burt who shifts slightly as if he wishes he knew what to do to help me but he is helping me. And if I can tell him more of my story maybe he’ll find a way to make it all okay. I want nothing more than to move past this and be who I want to be.

Courage, I tell myself then, you can do this, Blaine Anderson, I know you can.

I take a deep breath.

“They made me get on my knees and I- I felt so ashamed. I felt so disgusting.” I pull a face at that and Kurt is tightening his grip on my hand again, leaning his body into me.

“You are not disgusting.” Kurt all but whispers and my heart stops.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, kid.” Burt continues and he’s starting to sound as sad as Kurt now. I find hope in his kindness, so much hope.

“They- they made me crawl across the floor and I was so scared. Kurt, I was so scared.” I say and I don’t know why I’m addressing Kurt in particular, I think that maybe it’s because I feel the need to justify my weaknesses to him.

Kurt let’s out a tiny, strangled sound and my heart breaks.

“I‘m so sorry.” Kurt whispers into my hair and it sends a painful shudder straight through me.

“They made me take my shirt off so th- so they could see my horrible skin, and I-.” My eyes fill and I have to focus on my breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Kurt is so warm, I concentrate on that.

“He took his belt off- and he - he ordered me to ask for it and I didn’t want that. I swear, I didn’t, so I ran away, I just ran. I ran and I ran and I ran.” A tear slips down my cheek and my face creases. Kurt is still clinging to me and Carole has barely moved.

“Good for you, kid.” Burt says without delay and he offers me the tiniest of smiles, like he’s proud that I stood up for myself. Like he’s proud that my legs worked and I ran and ran and ran. My heart swells, I can’t help but see him differently then, Burt is so different from my own father. Something inside of me settles then, it’s that piece of me that worried that all men, that all fathers, were monstrous.

Thank you, Burt Hummel, I think, thank you, so much.

“I didn’t know who else to call.” I offer eventually, shyly, and my face is wet again.

“You did everything right.” Burt offers and I feel so undoubtedly loved, “Absolutely everything.”

It’s quiet then, for a moment, like everyone is taking a moment to organise their thoughts into something that makes sense on a universal level. Kurt is the first to speak.

“Dad, is it okay if Blaine stays here?” he asks quietly and my heart starts pounding. I know that it’s not likely, that they’re not going to throw me to the streets, but I still worry about it and then I feel incredibly awful because why did I even allow that thought to enter my head?

I feel even worse about it when Carole quickly says, “Of course, he‘ll stay, honey.”

“You’re not going back to that house, Blaine.” Burt says in confirmation and I have never felt so grateful, so reassured, “I will not have you terrorised in your own home.”

“Thank you.” I say faintly and my voice wavers as tears flood my eyes. It’s like a barrier opens inside of me and it just hits me.

Everything just hits me and I start drowning in sensation.

“Shhh.” Kurt soothes gently as he and Carole both let go of my hands, I feel cold then but Kurt shifts a little to hug me properly- his body pressing hastily against mine and my comfort is soon restored.

One of Kurt’s hands is holding my head to his neck and he’s running his fingers sporadically through my hair, his fingers getting tangled in my dark, messy curls. I bury my face into him and pull gently on the back of his shirt and I just cry. I cry so damn hard.

“I love you, so much.” Kurt whispers into the shell of my ear and my whole body starts to shake.

Tears are absolutely pouring out of my eyes and they must be soaking through Kurt’s clothes but he doesn’t say a word about it, he just tries to calm me down but I can’t calm down because this is my freedom, after eight and a half years, I am finally free.

I’m free because of this family, I’m free because of Puck. A loud sob burst out of my mouth and shatters the silence that lay idly around us.

“We’ll leave you boys in peace.” Burt says softly and then they both get up and leave, closing the door gently behind them. They leave Kurt and I on the sofa, squeezing the life out of each other and muttering heartfelt ‘I love you’s’.

It feels so strange to be in Kurt’s room without the secrets I’ve been keeping looming over my head. Tonight I don’t have to worry about hiding shameful bruises or side-stepping certain awkward conversations, we can just be us. We can be ourselves, we can be Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel.

I’m sitting on Kurt’s comfortable bed right now surrounded by plush pillows, with my back flush against his headboard, and I’m waiting for him to find me a t-shirt to wear for the rest of the evening because his blazer was starting to scratch my skin and it was making me feel quite uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough for me to mention it and for Kurt to notice. I watch from my position on the bed as he roots through his numerous drawers, I watch as he holds up shirt after shirt and then changes his mind.

He must look through twenty perfectly good t-shirts before he smiles to himself and walks over to me triumphantly with a top clutched in his hand. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed and waves the shirt he’s holding at me.

“You look great in red.” He say softly, a small blush flushing his cheeks, and he hands me the cherry garment. Kurt’s told me this before, that he thinks red and blue are my thing and I don’t disagree because I like both of those colours quite a lot.

“Thank you.” I say genuinely, taking the shirt from his hands and laying it on my legs before I start unbuttoning his blazer.

He holds a hand out to stop me.

“You can use my bathroom, if you want to, if you’re uncomfortable changing here, I mean. Or I can go in there- if you‘d prefer that. Or we can do what you want. I don‘t want you to feel uncomfortable in my house.” Kurt rambles and he looks so adorable when he‘s flustered and concerned.

“I’m fine right here, Kurt.” I say with a small smile and it’s true. I feel very comfortable in this room, I know Kurt isn’t going to do anything unpleasant or untoward. He taps my arm once and pulls his hand away before I slip his blazer off my shoulders and pull his red t-shirt over my battered skin.

“Does it look okay?” I ask self consciously and he nods enthusiastically, a hint of something else in his eyes. He looks like he’s seeing something he likes and my heart flutters.

“Is it okay if I sit here with you?” Kurt asks suddenly and I can feel my own brow furrowing.

“This is your room, Kurt, this is your bed.” I remind him and he shrugs.

“It might be your room too from now on.” He speculates quietly and I hadn’t thought of that. Though, I doubt Burt would let me sleep in this room with Kurt. Even I can see how that could be a bad idea.

“Your family is doing a lot for me.” I say then and Kurt moves so that he’s propped up against the headboard too and it doesn’t take long for his hand to wonder over and link with mine.

He smiles at me then.

“You do a lot for me,” he says purposefully, “and that makes us even.”

It’s been a very long, very confusing day for me and so it mustn’t be entirely surprising to Kurt when I flutter in and out of sleep as I listen to him talk. My head is resting on his shoulder and our arms and hands are locked tightly together and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be able to sleep without waking up with anxiety for the first time in a long time.

The answer is yes.

When I wake up the first thing I do is look for a clock and luckily Kurt has one on his bedside table, so it doesn’t take me too long to realise that it’s eight o’clock in the morning.

I turn over then and I realise a number of things. I realise that Kurt isn’t here, I realise that I’m under the sheets and I realise that I slept peacefully for an entire night. All of those things confuse me in one way or another, some of them just amaze me.

I pull myself into a seated position then and rub the sleep out of my eyes- trying so hard to focus my vision and clear my head. My eyes are still burning from all of the crying I did yesterday but I can’t change that and I wouldn’t anyway.

I remember then, it’s Saturday today.

It’s Saturday, I’m at Kurt’s house, I’m in his bed, I’m homeless, I’m family-less and I don’t have a school to go to but I’m feeling surprisingly happy anyway because no one is ever going to hurt me ever again. That feels amazing. I feel like I could sit in this bed all day, snuggled up in the covers that smell like Kurt and I’d feel like I’ve finally come home. But I can’t sit around all day inhaling the scents of my best friend, I’m a guest of sorts in this house and I need to get out of bed and find Kurt. I need to find a way to help them.

I throw the covers off my body then and slip my body out, a shiver running through me as my bare feet hit the ground. Someone took my shoes off and something about that makes me smile. I make Kurt’s bed, I fluff his pillows, I pull his throw straight and then I head to the bathroom, checking quickly over myself.

My hair is a mess, my skin is pale, my eyes are still pink, the bruising on my neck is visible again and Kurt’s red shirt is all creased. I sigh and I try to make myself look more presentable. I splash water on my face, run my fingers through my hair start searching for some kind of concealer and that’s exactly what I’m doing when there’s a firm knock on the bathroom door.

“Come in.” I say politely because this isn’t my house and I’m not doing anything private, I’m just trying to look a little more presentable and I’m half-way there and let’s face it, Kurt’s seen me in a worse state than this anyway.

The door clicks open and I expect to see Kurt, but what I expect and what I actually get are two very different things. This isn’t Kurt, not at all, it’s his new brother. This is Finn.

“F-finn.” I say catching his eye in the mirror and I instinctively try to cover my neck with my hands as I turn around.

“Hey, don‘t worry about that.” he says carefully pointing a finger in the general direction of my neck and I grimace because he must know, of course he knows, I think, I’m living in his house and that demands an explanation. I should be glad I didn’t have to tell him myself.

“Oh.” is all my brain can come up with to say as I force my hands down.

“I’m sorry for intruding like this, dude, I just came down to see if you like pancakes?” He’s got that awkward look on his face and it’s hard not to find him totally endearing.

“Oh, yeah, I like pancakes.” I say casually, like the boy standing in front of me doesn’t know my secret.

“Great.” he says and a small caring smile forms on his lips as he lingers in the doorway, “My mom, she told me about- about that.” He says nodding his head towards my neck and I can’t do anything but nod my head in an affirmative yes.

“I-” I begin but I don’t know what to say to that.

“Don’t worry about anything because I’d never say anything to anyone, I just wanted to let you know because I felt like it was the right thing to do and my mom’s real big on that.” he offers honestly and I smile then.

“Your mom’s a wonderful woman.” I say in response and he nods proudly.

“I should let you carry on.” he says then, “Kurt’s cooking some weird ‘healthy-heart’ pancakes and if I’m not up there demanding the real ones he won’t make them for me.”

“That sounds dramatic.” I offer to which Finn laughs lightly.

“You do know Kurt, right? He lives for drama, even breakfast has to be dramatic.” I laugh then too and Finn bids me farewell before he vanishes from the doorway. He’s strange, I think, but I definitely like him. I like him a lot.

I keep searching for concealer but I really can’t find any and if I can’t find any on the surface then that’s too bad because I’m not rummaging through Kurt’s private things. I respect him too much as a person for anything even verging on a breech of privacy.

In the end I do the only thing I can, I give up. I don’t have much choice, and apart from my neck, I definitely look better. I can see myself and that’s enough right now. It’s enough just to be able to see my reflection and know that all of these bruises will fade and they won’t be replaced.

It’s enough to know that Burt doesn’t have heavy hands and that Carole is like the mom I've missed every single day of my life. It’s enough to know that two teenagers, who I barely know, are offering me so much support. It’s enough to know that, if anything, all of this has brought Kurt and I closer together and that’s enough to make me straighten myself up, walk up those stairs and into that kitchen with pride because these people really do care about me and I really do matter.

It’s about time fights stopped being about violence and started being about pancakes.